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True Stories about Dogs and Cats
True Stories about Dogs and Cats
True Stories about Dogs and Cats
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True Stories about Dogs and Cats

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Release dateNov 27, 2013
True Stories about Dogs and Cats

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    True Stories about Dogs and Cats - Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

    Project Gutenberg's True Stories about Cats and Dogs, by Eliza Lee Follen

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

    almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    Title: True Stories about Cats and Dogs

    Author: Eliza Lee Follen

    Posting Date: June 4, 2009 [EBook #4029]

    Release Date: May, 2003

    First Posted: October 14, 2001

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUE STORIES ABOUT CATS AND DOGS ***

    Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed

    Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.

    TRUE STORIES ABOUT DOGS AND CATS

    BY

    MRS. FOLLEN

    With Illustrations by Billings

    TRUE STORIES ABOUT DOGS AND CATS.

    In a pretty, quiet village in New England lived Mary Chilton. She was a widow. She had two sons; and it was the occupation and the happiness of her life to do all she could to make her boys good and happy. I should say to help and teach them to be good and happy; for boys and girls must make themselves good; and then, of course, they will be happy; and no one can be made good or happy against his will.

    I hear some boy or girl who reads this say, How old were they, and what were their names? No boy can get along with another boy till he knows his name and age, and so, that you may be sure that they were real, live boys, I will tell you these important facts. The eldest was called Frank, and was nine years old. His brother was called Harry, and was seven. They were very much like other boys, somewhat disposed to have their own way in every thing, and a little vexed when they could not do as they pleased; sometimes really wishing to do right, and be obedient, and make their mother happy.

    The little fellows were fond of saying to their mother that when they grew bigger they should take care of her; and the idea that she depended upon them for her happiness often made them stop and think when they were disposed to do a wrong thing.

    When Harry said to Frank, Mother will be so sorry if we do it, Frank would stop and think, and that was enough.

    Stop and think. Grand words, and worth attending to. I believe that, if boys and girls would only keep these words well in mind, there would be only a small number of really naughty children.

    It was a custom with this good and faithful mother to have a little talk with her boys, every night before their bed time, of what had passed during the day. Sometimes she told them stories, sometimes they repeated poetry.

    The hours they passed in this way were the happiest in the whole day. Some of their twilight talks and stories Mrs. Chilton wrote down, thinking they might amuse some little cousins, who lived at a distance. Perhaps some other little boys and girls may like to hear them too.

    One evening, early in November, when tea was over, and the tea things were removed; when the nice hearth was swept clean, and the great wood fire was blazing brightly, and sending forth its cheering light and heat through the whole room, Frank and Harry had taken their accustomed places, one on each side of their mother who was sitting on the old-fashioned sofa. Each one appropriated a hand to himself, when they both, almost in the same breath, said to her, You promised us, Mother, if we were good boys, to tell us a story this evening. Now, have we not been good boys all day?

    Yes, you have, she replied; you have not quarrelled, and you have got your lessons well; and I will gladly perform my promise. But I hardly know whether I can remember or make up any story to tell you. However, I will do my best. What sort of a story will you have?

    I, said Frank, should like a real good true story about a dog, or any other animal.

    And I like a made-up story best, said Harry.

    "I have an anecdote of a dog for you, Frank, which a friend related to me the other day, and which I determined to remember to tell you, as I recollected your love for dogs. The lady who told me the story is an

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